


Take on Me

by Lupin111



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M, community: qaf_giftxchnge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5910169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupin111/pseuds/Lupin111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the QAF Gift Exchange 2015 for enika_benika</p><p>Gift Request: Fic. Could be AU or post-513, fluff, hurt-comfort, or kid-fic. I really love a good AU story! And some post 513 ones. It can be really anything with my favorite boys Brian and Justin. I don't mind some angst if there will be a very happy end. Just, please, don't kill anyone! ;)</p><p>Other Specifications: Ethan never happened. It'll be good if the boys will be in character. They can meet anyway you like!</p><p>Beta: Xrifree</p><p>A/N: I went with a completely AU setting, and tried to include a touch of angst, since you mentioned it. Hope this is close to what you had in mind! Have a wonderful Christmas, and all the very, very best for 2016!</p><p>The title is taken from the A-ha track of the same name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enika_benika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enika_benika/gifts).



Justin had never been stood up before. He felt embarrassed, uncomfortable and supremely annoyed. This experience also meant that he would never look at romantic comedies in the same way again. Ugh. He was just going to order dinner and plough through the evening, and let the waiters laugh at him in the kitchen.

As Justin was wondering about his options, he sensed the presence of someone, and briefly, his hopes surged up, thinking that his date had _finally_ turned up.

It wasn't his date. Instead, it was a much taller, _much_ better looking man. Justin looked him up and down. _Much_ better looking than the idiot violinist that he was supposed to have dinner with. Justin would have wagered that the man was gay. He wasn't obvious, but Justin would have bet good money.

"You've been stood up, haven't you?"

Unfortunately, this good-looker wasn't his date, and he was also being annoying.

Justin scowled. "And that is your business how, exactly?"

"You're sitting at the only available table."

Justin rolled his eyes. "It's not 'available' if I'm occupying it, is it? Besides, there's a free table right over there." He was not wrong; Justin could see an empty table.

"Look, the entire restaurant can see that you've been stood up; you've been sitting there for the last thirty minutes, looking at your watch, your phone, the door, and your glass of wine. I have a client coming here in ten minutes, and because you won't leave, I'm stuck with that table," the man pointed to the empty table, "next to the kitchen entrance. _Not_ a place I want to entertain a client. So…since you're not being wined and dined, could you please leave? Move? I'll pay for your dinner." He added as an afterthought.

The arrogance of the man was almost amusing.

"So you've watched me for thirty minutes, and you couldn't wheedle a better table out of the manager?"

The man scoffed. "I was late. The management doesn't want to offend you, which is why I'm here telling you what they're too chicken shit to say."

"I'm tired, annoyed, humiliated and hungry. I – "

"Brian, good to see you!" Justin looked on blankly as a portly man, with a woman who seemed to be his wife walked over to their – no, _his_ – table, and proceeded to shake the man's hand. "Honey, I told you there was no need to worry, and that Brian would bring someone as well. This is my wife, Elizabeth."

'Brian' shook her hand, clearly at a loss, and trying to figure his way out of the misunderstanding.

Justin smiled brightly. Maybe the evening could be salvaged.

"Very lovely to meet you Elizabeth. I'm Justin." He shook her hand, and then that of the gentleman. "Brian, darling, sit down. I already ordered myself some wine – I got here quite early."

Brian, did indeed, sit down. He returned Justin's beaming smile with a more restrained one, but Justin could see the amusement in the man's eyes.

And that's how Justin Taylor met Brian Kinney.

 

* * *

 

"That must be nice, both of you working in advertising."

So far, the meal had gone very well, and they had not faced any obstacles. While Brian and Robert talked of moving Robert's advertising business to Brian's agency, Justin had mostly kept Elizabeth entertained, which was quite easy. He had wanted to join Brian's conversation with some comments of his own, but knew better than to do that. It was one thing to hijack the man's dinner plans, but it would not do to ruin his business plans, even if any faux pas would be an accident. He could play the trophy partner.

Justin smiled sweetly. "I actually don't work in advertising per se. I'm working - interning - at a production company. The vast majority of the work we do is for ad agencies, though."

Robert pressed on. "But you studied advertising?"

"I did a double major in business and art from Dartmouth."

Elizabeth beamed. "So you're both creative people. That's nice. It's hard to make those types of connections in your personal life."

Justin and Brian had identical smiles.

"Indeed." Brian commented. "Some more wine, Elizabeth? Robert?"

"Dartmouth is in…Connecticut? New Hampshire?"

"New Hampshire."

"And are you from the East Coast? I know Brian has mentioned that he's from Pittsburgh. What about you, Justin?"

It was a good thing that he wasn't drinking anything, because Justin might have choked on it, in his surprise. Brian was _also_ from Pittsburgh?

"Actually, I'm from Pittsburgh as well. That's how Brian and I met," he added coyly, smiling angelically at Brian.

"Aaaw, you're _both_ from Pittsburgh _and_ you're both creative! That's soo…aaw…what a connection the two of you share." Elizabeth prattled dreamily.

To Justin, it seemed like Brian was trying hard not to laugh. He himself was struggling to maintain his composure. Elizabeth was sweet, but she seemed somewhat removed from reality.

Acting it up, Justin placed his hand on top of Brian's, squeezing it gently. "I _know._ Timing is everything. And Brian and I…we fit together like…like…"

"Two pieces of Lego." Brian supplied dryly, much to the amusement of Robert.

"Oh Brian, you can be so unromantic at times. See what I have to deal with?" Justin said, taking the opportunity to lean over and kiss the man lightly on his cheek. Smart, hot and witty. The evening had turned out much better than he had expected. _Much_ better.

"Would you care for some dessert?" The waiter materialized, handing out the dessert menus.

"I'll have an espresso." Robert said, without even looking at the menu.

Elizabeth seemed disappointed. "Could I have the apple crumble?"

Brian looked at the menu, then at Justin, but didn't say anything. Justin quickly glanced at the menu.

"Brian, shall we share the tiramisu?"

It looked as if Brian was hiding a smirk. "Sure, why not?"

"You know, I never understood tiramisu." Robert said. "I mean, is it a cake? It's cake, right? Why isn't it listed under cakes?"

Brian buried himself in his wine glass, refusing to answer. Justin thought it was his way of rebelling against ignorance.

"Traditionally, it's made of savoiardi, which is not a cake. It's like…sponge biscuits. But, some people make it now using cake instead. But that's really sacrilege, if you ask me. It's not a cake"

"He pretends to order one for both of us to share, but then eats it all by himself. I go for the Italian clothes, and he goes for the Italian food." Brian said, conspiratorially.

"Now you're just being mean." Justin responded with a smile.

Damn it, he thought. Now he was going to have to _actually_ share the tiramisu and not look like a greedy Neanderthal. Brian smiled at him calmly, and there was twinkle in his eye. He clearly had pegged Justin down right.

 

* * *

 

They stood outside on the sidewalk. There was a slight chill to the night air, unusual for April. Justin didn't mind. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the breeze.

"I hope you know that you're a piece of shit."

Justin laughed at Brian. "Aaaw, admit it. You had fun. I made a boring dinner interesting."

Brian shook his head. "You're still a piece of shit. What if they were homophobic?"

"You shouldn't do business with homophobic people." Justin stated matter-of-factly. "They'd only drop you like a hot brick when they find out you like sins proscribed by the bible."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Didn't you say you were a business major from Dartmouth? Did they teach you nothing there?"

" _Double_ major. Business and art. I like to let the arty side control me."

"And here I thought it was the crazy side." Brian mumbled. "So, where are you headed?"

Justin glanced at his watch. "I have to go to a shoot."

Brian raised his eyebrow. "Now? In the middle of the night? I thought you were just an intern."

"Pffft. It's the interns that do all the work. I practically did the art direction for the scene; I _have_ to turn up. Sucks to be me."

To be honest, Justin did not mind his intern job at a video production company. He got to work on computer animation, art direction and set design, mostly for advertisements, but on occasion, they got a few independent films come their way as well. The best part of his job was that his homophobic father hated it.

"You scheduled a date on a night you were busy?"

"We all have to eat, Brian. Besides, the idiot was a concert violinist on tour. His availability was limited."

Justin felt that they were at that awkward stage of a (non) date, when everyone made small talk because no one knew how to move forward. He liked Brian, he had fun during dinner, he wanted to see the man again, _and_ he had a shoot to get to.

Justin pulled out his name card and gave it to Brian. "Call me."

"I don't do dates." Brian stated. "Only time I was on one, I fucked the waiter."

Justin looked at Brian, laughing. The potential in this man was infinite.

"Call me," he repeated. "We can hang out and non-date."

He gave Brian a light kiss before he disappeared into the night.

 

* * *

 

It took Brian 11 days to call him. Justin had counted, and was very close to taking action himself.

In 2 days, he had managed to find out Brian's contact information, after all. Justin was very chilled out, and he knew that he would be more than hooking up with Brian. It was only a question of time.

Things didn't go exactly as Justin had planned. They rarely ever did, but he was cool with it. He could adjust, and he could wait.

Because, as it turned out, Brian called him with a business proposition. More like a request. More like begging for help.

Justin hoped that it was a ruse to get in touch with him, but it was hard to tell with Brian.

Brian had an urgent project for his client. It would take roughly two weeks to complete, and required a lot of computer animation, graphic design and artwork – all things that Justin excelled in. His own creative team was on it, but given the deadline and the last-minuteness, they needed an extra pair of hands.

Brian had already checked out Justin's work.

Justin was thrilled, and was unabashed about showing it. However, he couldn't just take two weeks out of his own job, so he struck a deal to work for Brian in the evenings and weekends. Brian agreed. Brian also said that the job would have been evenings anyway, because his team could not squeeze it in during regular hours.

Justin saw Brian every day, for almost two weeks.

Every fucking day, for two weeks.

They did not have sex once.

Part of that was Justin's fault. He was way too stressed, and stretched to capacity, working two jobs full-time.

Brian's team…they were _awful_. Justin didn't think they were incompetent – well, not all of them, anyway – but they were just mean, horrible, human beings. They all considered him a threat – as if a fucking job was what Justin was after.

No one would help him, no one would explain shit, and most of them dumped at least part of their responsibilities on to his lap. Justin was scared about fucking up the project, anal to point of insanity about doing a perfect job and impressing Brian, and going nuts by trying to smile through the whole ordeal.

He didn't complain to Brian. He didn't utter a word about the awful work environment. He wasn't going to be _that_ person.

Especially because he was beginning to like Brian. Like, _really_ like Brian.

Brian wasn't there throughout the whole evening when the team worked. He'd drop by at random times, to talk to them, to discuss things, tweak things, or just check on the day's work. More often than not, Brian joined them for dinner, where everyone suddenly became incredibly nice to Justin.

Justin just played along.

On more than one occasion, Brian dropped him home.

He got to speak to Brian, they talked about things other than the goddamn project. He found out, for example, that Brian had a son, being raised by a lesbian couple. That they both had homophobic fathers, and vastly different mothers. That Brian grew up in a working-class family with alcoholics for parents, and Justin was raised by wealthy WASP parents, and yet, they both had had similarly unhappy, lonely childhoods. He learnt that there was an 11 year age gap between them, and yet, it was the last thing either of them noticed.

They talked about all of this, and more, when Brian dropped him home. On more than one occasion.

And yet.

No sex.

Just good night kisses – not chaste, but also not the sex-in-the-back-alley-right-now kind of kisses. Good night kisses that were soft, tingly with the promise of something more.

Kisses that had Justin touching his lips long after Brian had left.

In those moments, Justin kicked himself for not having the energy to encourage Brian in some manner or form. For being so scared of the work dynamic that he couldn't even manage to flirt with Brian – the only reason he had agreed to take on the job in the first place.

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3474>


	2. Chapter 2

Justin felt his phone vibrate. He was running late as it was, and considered ignoring it. Then he checked the caller ID, and saw that it was Brian.

_Shit._

“Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you? Everyone’s here already.”

Justin frowned, confused. They had finished the project yesterday, so he didn’t understand. “Brian, what are you talking about? We finished the whole thing last night.”

“Yeees, I am well aware of that,” Brian said slowly, as if he was talking to a small child. “We’re out celebrating at _Robbie’s_. Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh.”

“Didn’t Chelsea tell you?”

Clearly, she hadn’t, but Justin decided to be polite. “No, no she didn’t.”

“Whatever. Get your ass over here.”

“Brian, I can’t. I wouldn’t have been able to make even if she had told me. I have plans.”

“What? Another date who’s gonna stand you up? Ditch him instead and come here.”

“Dick.” Justin laughed in spite of himself. “I have a show that starts in an hour, and I can’t bail on that. Let’s have drinks another time, ok?”

“A show? You’re having show?  You never mentioned a show. Where?”

“Brian, relax. It’s not art. I mean, it _is_ art, just not visual art. Like I’d have said ok to your project if I had an actual show coming up! This is just a musical-comedy-theatre kind of thing. Sort of. It’s just very low-key and casual. No big deal. We’ll do drinks another day?”

“Mmm hmmm. I believe I asked you where this show was taking place.”

Justin briefly wondered if Brian would come to watch, and then decided against it. He wouldn’t ditch his team to come see kooky performance art. “Brian, it’s ok. No big deal.”

“ _Where_ is this fucking show happening?” 

_Oh dear lord._

“ _Joe’s Pub_. On Lafayette Street. Look, please don’t bother yourself, ok? I’ll call you tomorrow…no, I’m at the dentist’s. I’ll call you day after and we can schedule something. Now I really have to go.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Justin didn’t know if Brian had turned up. He doubted it. _Joe’s Pub_ was not close to where Brian had been with his team, and it would be the height of rudeness for him to abandon his team just to come and watch Justin perform.

Had he been having an art show, he would have told Brian well in advance. Well, as much advance notice as one could give a person they had known for two weeks, plus a silent eleven days, plus a non-date dinner.

But this was just something he did for fun. It was just singing someone else’s songs and making the audience laugh, and occasionally, think. It was kind of corny and embarrassing. Brian had way better things to do.

Justin looked into the audience, but with the dim lights, he couldn’t make out anyone’s face.

Ok, time to start, he figured.

Brian, or no Brian.

His introduction perfectly encompassed how he had been feeling in the last few weeks, or maybe months, and why he kept at it nevertheless. And the song he was performing. Well. The song spoke for itself, he thought. All his subconscious needs to be with someone, to find that perfect partner he meshed with…and the quiet excitement that maybe…just maybe, he had met that person.

“Optimism. A doctrine that this world is the best possible world. Optimism. An inclination to put the best possible construction upon actions and events, or to assume the best possible outcome. Optimism. Some examples. I brought all these electronic equipment onto the stage tonight, plugged in a few chords, and expected it to function the way it did in my apartment. That is – optimistic. I believe my father did not vote to ban same sex marriage in the last ballot initiative, even though my mother told me that he did. Optimistic. I’m sure I will work enough weeks to get health insurance this year. Optimistic. Nuclear power is safe. Op…op…op…naïve.”

Then, while playing the keyboard, he sang Anthony and Johnson’s “Hope there’s someone”.

 

* * *

 

 

“This is a great view.” Justin reached out, and Brian passed him the joint. “Excellent spring weather, excellent balcony view, and quality weed.”

Brian laughed lazily. Justin thought that they both had a nice buzz. He had his sketchbook open, and was sketching Brian in between puffs.

“Well, we could be out drinking and dancing somewhere, but you’re the princess that whined about needing an early night. And not drinking. My options were limited.”

“I’m not complaining! I’m having fun. Really. And your place is beautiful. I still can’t believe you came. You didn’t have to.”

“You’ve said that just under a million times already. I liked your singing. It’s good. You’re a better artist than a singer, but, you’re pretty damn good singer.”

Justin was too high to blush at the compliment, so he just beamed.

After a while, Brian spoke again.

“You’re optimistic about your father? He sounds like an asshole.”

“Meh. He is. But hope springs eternal. What am I going to do? Hate him? Hating someone is like drinking poison yourself and expecting them to die.”

Brian laughed. “Who are you quoting?”

“No clue. Some Buddhist saying. Or Confucius. It’s true, though.” Justin pondered. “You hate your father.”

“Believe me, he deserves to be hated.”

“I believe you. But for a person with no forgiveness in his heart, living is worse punishment than death.”

“Who’s that from? Tolstoy?” 

“ _‘The Karate Kid’_. It’s a movie from your vintage.” That earned him a glare. “Seriously though. You don’t deserve to live with hate and anger inside you forever. So. Letting go is a favour you do yourself, not him.”

Brian looked at him, but didn’t say anything for a while. Justin kept sketching. After several more minutes of silence, Brian spoke.

“How long is your internship for?”

“Literally, until the end of the year. December 31st.”

“And then? Are they going to hire you back?”

“I dunno. I think they will. If I want to stay.”

“You’re thinking of another place?”

“I dunno. New York is nice. It’s got nice…neighbourhoods. But I haven’t found a community. Difference between the happenstance of urban geography, and actually having a community, a group, a people that I fit in with, at more than a superficial level. I dunno. I’m still debating. What about you? Would you ever go back to Pittsburgh? Closer to your son, your friends?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of the future?” Brian asked.

“No. Of tomorrow. Which, technically, is the future. I have to get a root canal done at ten. It’s going to be awful and I’m going to die, except, I’m not so lucky so I’ll have to live through it.”

Brian burst out laughing. “You’re such a princess. Is that why you’re too afraid to drink, and wanted an early night? It’s a root canal. It’s no big deal.”

“It _IS_ a big deal. I hate my teeth. I hate my life. I’ve had one before. It’s awful. It’s like walking through the valley of death. I think being eaten alive by a crocodile would be less painful and anxiety-inducing. Last time was so bad that my dentist gave me a prescription for Valium. I’m supposed to take it an hour before I go to see him.”

“Here. Finish it off. You need it.” Brain passed him what was left of the joint. “Who’s taking you?”

“Taking me where?” Justin asked blankly.

“To the moon. To the fucking dentist, obviously.”

“I don’t need anyone. Taking the bus there, and a cab back home when it’s done.”

“You’re going to be drugged out. And you’re already freaked out. You should go with someone. And be picked up by someone.”

“Or not. I’ll be fine.” Justin tried to think, but there wasn’t anyone he could ask. Or maybe there was, but the joint had dulled his senses. “I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will. Come on. Time for you to go to bed.”

“I have to go home first.” Justin pointed out.

“There’s a guest room here that my son and his muncher parents use. Sleep there. I’ll take you tomorrow morning.”

“But…” One look at Brian’s face, and Justin swallowed the rest of his sentence.

 

* * *

 

 

It turned out that what Justin had needed in the last two weeks was a root canal.

In more ways than one.

Justin wasn’t quite sure how the morning had passed. He looked at his watch, and it was seven in the evening. It was dark, but he could make out that he was in Brian’s guest room.

He had been anxious as fuck in the morning, then he had taken the Valium, and Brian had taken him to the dentist. If they talked about anything on the ride there, Justin had no recollection of what it could have possibly been.

The root canal had been awful, but not nearly as terrifying as the last one he had needed. Justin wasn’t sure what happened afterwards. He vaguely recollected something about the follow-up appointment. From what he could remember, the clinic was supposed to call him. He wasn’t certain. He _did_ remember insisting to Brian that they had left his blue scarf back at the clinic. Except it was the end of April, and nobody was wearing scarves, least of all him. 

Surprisingly, he felt pretty ok. A bit groggy, but ok.

He stepped out of the room, and found Brian watching the news. 

“Did I sleep through the entire afternoon?”

Brian looked up. “Mostly. Come. Sit. How are you feeling?”

“I’m kind of hungry. I mean, I feel weirdly ok. Surprisingly ok. But I’m hungry.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. I can order Thai.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Take your medicine – it’s on the counter. I’ll order Thai for the both of us. Come. Sit.”

Justin took his medicine as ordered, and then padded over to the couch and plonked himself down next to Brian leaning against him while Brian ordered.

“You sure you’re ok?”

“Hmmm…yeah. Just…still somewhere between being asleep and awake. I’ll be fine after I eat. Thank you. For everything. You _really_ didn’t have to…”

“Shhhh. You talk too much.” Brian resolutely kept watching the news.

Justin smiled, and found his head a very soft, cosy spot somewhere between Brian’s arm and chest. “If I fall asleep, wake me when the food arrives. Please.”

“Shhhh.”

When Justin next awoke, James Dean was on the television, his head was on Brian’s lap, and he had no idea where the Thai food was.

It didn’t matter, because he wasn’t hungry anymore. Certainly not for Thai food.

He moved his body softly, so that he was watching Brian’s face instead of the television.

“What are you doing?” Brian asked him, still watching James Dean.

“Watching you.” 

At that, Brian looked down at him. “Hungry?” He asked softly.

“Mmmm.” Justin ran the back of his hand across Brian’s face. “For you.”

Justin would remember the rest of that evening his entire life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justin’s performance at Joe’s Pub is a compilation of two performances by Randy Harrison at the same location, and the introductory speech given there is almost verbatim the speech given by Randy Harrison. I take no credit for it.


	3. Chapter 3

Justin had no idea what this ‘thing’ with Brian would turn out to be.

He knew that he liked Brian. A lot.

He knew that Brian was weird. Very weird.

So he tried to keep his expectations to a minimum, and go with the flow.

After the first night they had sex, Justin woke up to find Brian had already left for work, leaving behind detailed instructions for Justin on how to lock up when leaving. So Justin left.

He emailed Brian and told him that he had had a great time, and just as he had expected, Brian didn’t respond for two days. That was fine by Justin, because Brian had taken eleven days to contact him the first time round.

On the second day, he texted Justin late in the afternoon, asking whether he was planning on eating the Thai food that was ordered for him, and if not, Brian was going to throw it out.

Justin understood the text to say what it didn’t actually say. He told Brian that he was going swimming after work, and that he’d come over after that.

They had sex that night, and Justin spent the night at Brian’s place.

Justin waited a day before asking Brian if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. ‘Busy’ was the one word response Justin received, and he was cool with that.

He knew how to play a long innings.

He knew Brian would want more, he just had to keep Brian’s pace.

It took Brian until the following Thursday to ask him if he wanted to come over, and Justin decided that it was as good a time as any to play a little hard to get. Yes, he wanted to come over. But he also wanted to go dancing. Did Brian want to perhaps hit a club first?

Turned out Brian did. Turned out they had to eat first, before hitting a club.

Turned out that going on a date with Brian wasn’t so hard after all, so long as he didn’t tell Brian that it was a date.

Before he knew it, they established a routine.

Thursday: evening dinner, clubbing, sex, sleeping over at Brian’s.

Friday: going to work, meeting for dinner, clubbing, sex, sleeping over at Brian’s.

Saturday: waking up at noon, going out for brunch or Justin embarking on a cooking adventure, depending on how hungover they were, and random afternoon activities that ended with dinner, clubbing and sex.

Justin made sure to leave Brian’s place by Sunday afternoon. Brian got crazy jittery, and the first weekend they had spent together, made a crack about Justin almost living at his place. It had been just three days and two nights, but Justin just pretended to not hear Brian. He recognised commitment-phobia when he saw it. He had been a bit scared that Brian would totally bail, but when Thursday came around, they had plans to have dinner together.

They’d email and text each other on the days they didn’t see each other, but Justin had no clue what Brian was up to for those days in terms of other men. He didn’t ask. Brian had issues, and Justin was not going to press his luck just yet.

The first real sign he got that Brian cared about him, in his own weird way, was in the middle of June, when they were having dinner.

“What are you up to next week?”

“I have to finish the CGI for the Acrylex ad, which is taking way longer than I expected. I have to somehow get that done by Tuesday, or Wednesday the latest. And there’s this Swedish indie movie about exchange students and prostitutes, and I might have to go for that shoot. Kinda excited about that one…do you want come for the shoot?”

“I’m away next week.”

It struck Justin that Brian had only asked about his week so that Brian could tell Justin about _his._

“Yeah? Where are you off to?”

“Pittsburgh. Have to pretend to be a father, friend, such assorted bullshit.”

“Oh. When are you back?” For a nano second, Justin’s heart leapt to unmeasurable heights, thinking that Brian was going to ask him to join. Then reality kicked in, and Justin figured that this was Brian’s way of letting him know that nothing was going to happen between them next week.

“Leaving Sunday afternoon, and getting back in the following Monday evening.”

“That’s a good stretch…you’ll have plenty of time to sort out assorted bullshit.” Justin wanted to say that he’ll miss Brian, but he kept that thought to himself.

“Since you have no real plans, I think you should just stay at my place while I’m gone. It’ll be an improvement for you, because my place is infinitely better than yours.”

Justin frowned. Brian lived in a condo with plenty of security, and he had no pets.

“You want me to stay at your place while you’re gone?”

“Yeah…check on the cleaning lady, make sure she doesn’t fuck anything up, and you can finish all that food in the fridge. And there’s left over wine as well.”

“Ummm…sure, why not?”

Justin couldn’t figure out Brian’s logic, but he said ok because he didn’t want to refuse for no reason. Just because he didn’t understand why, didn’t mean that Brian didn’t have a good reason. Justin’s best guess was that Brian thought he’d be safer at Brian’s place than his own. Or maybe he felt closer if Justin was at his place.

Or maybe he thought Justin wouldn’t go out and find himself another man, when he was sleeping in Brian’s bed.

All three theories made Justin happy.

The irregular texts from Brian during his Pittsburgh holiday also made Justin happy.

Brian cutting his trip short and coming back early Saturday evening made Justin _very_ happy. 

Brian hadn’t told him that he was coming; Justin was watching a movie, and had fallen asleep on the couch. He woke up to Brian kissing him, and thought that he was dreaming.

“Brian? You’re…what are you doing here?”

“I got bored.” More kissing. “I missed New York.” More kissing.

“Are you tired? Hungry? You wanna go get food?” More kissing.

“Make something for me later. For now, just…” Brian started removing his clothes, climbing on top of him.

In between kissing, Brian whispered “I might have missed you too.”

 

* * *

 

It was late July when Brian tried his dinner question trick again.

“What are you up to next week?”

Justin tried very hard to keep his face neutral.

“I’m shopping for socks. I think I need new ones.”

Brian gave him a withering glare.

“I _told_ you last week. I’m doing another show at _Joe’s Pub_ Friday evening.”

“You most certainly did not tell me that. You said 27th.”

“Meaning, then, that I _did_ tell you. And I told you that it was the 20th. You’re growing old and losing your memory.”

This time, Brian’s glare could kill, and he seemed genuinely irritated. Justin was surprised; he teased Brian often enough without Brian getting riled.

“Well, what the fuck ever. Have fun shopping for socks and singing about it. I’m having guests over from Tuesday evening, so you’re going to have to keep away and entertain yourself.”

“Uh-huh. Who are these guests?”

“Michael and his professor partner Ben.”

Justin knew that Michael and Brian had gone to school together since middle school; Michael’s mother had practically raised Brian. And Ben was Michael’s husband. ‘Zen Ben’, as Brian referred to him privately.

Justin was disappointed that Brian wasn’t going to come to the pub, and that he was being shooed away, instead of being introduced to Brian’s oldest friend in the world, but he kept his game face on. “Are they coming for a holiday?”

“Some conference Ben has to attend. Who the fuck knows. The boring lives of boring people.”

“Oh well. Have fun with that.” He made sure to not act the least bit perturbed.

At least he tried.

Justin corresponded with Brian as always that week, knowing that they wouldn’t be seeing each other. He tried to act cool, unaffected and normal.

When Wednesday rolled around, he barely heard from Brian.

When Thursday came, he received not one response from Brian.

When it was Friday afternoon, Brian messaged him, asking that he reserve a table for Brian plus two at _Joe’s Pub._

Apparently, Brian and his friends were going to see his show after all.

When his performance was done, Brian told him to come and join them, introducing him to Michael and Ben. Introductions were simple – ‘this is Justin’. He was cool with that.

He just followed Brian’s lead, and didn’t initiate anything that Brian might have a problem with. Michael and Ben were incredibly nice and friendly, which helped. Brian was incredibly physical, keeping Justin very close to him, which also helped. A lot.

They went for dinner – not that Brian asked him to join, not that he told him to join, he just had his arm firmly around Justin’s waist, steering him. They went to a club after, got blissfully drunk, and when it was time to give the cabbie directions, Brian just gave one address.

Justin spent the weekend at Brian’s, and if Michael or Ben wondered as to who or what he exactly was, they kept their questions to themselves.

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3474>


	4. Chapter 4

Then there were the secrets that Justin kept from Brian.

Small secrets that sprung from Justin’s bigger secret – that he had issues, he was insecure, regarding his relationship with Brian. And he was terrified that if he became unavailable, Brian might wander off and find someone else. Or that if he rocked the boat by asking questions, or making serious requests, things would change, for the worse. Brian would bail.

So Justin didn’t tell Brian that he had refused to go back to Pittsburgh – twice – to see his parents. He also didn’t tell Brian that his mother had come down to New York to see him. Twice. He lied to his mother both times about being unavailable over the weekend, but made time to be with her every other day.

Justin just felt that it was the safer thing to do. He didn’t want to jeopardise what they had.

He told his mother about Brian. Told her that she could meet him, later, hopefully, if Justin felt that the time was right.

These were things he kept to himself.

August was a very bad month at work, for Brian. Justin knew, because Brian was tense, on edge and busy all the fucking time. He brought work home, even on the weekend, and cut down his partying to only one day of the weekend.

But he didn’t tell Justin to stay away. Their defacto schedule continued. Sometimes, Brian asked Justin for his input, and he ended up helping Brian.

Justin knew that it was bad when Brian wanted to have dinner on weekdays. Sometimes, he wanted to meet for lunch. Brian needed to vent, Justin figured, and he was the only appropriate person for the job. He tried to be as supportive as he could. It wasn’t easy, because Brian was difficult and loathed appearing weak.

Justin figured that he was in it for the long haul, and everyone was going to have bad patches. More importantly, Brian was leaning on him for support, and that meant something. Something amazingly good.

In early September, Brian finally won the account he was killing himself over, and things became normal again.

This time, when Brian went away to Pittsburgh for a week, he didn’t wait until dinner to tell Justin.

Brian also flatly told Justin to stay over until he returned.

Just like the last trip though, Brian cut this one shorter than planned.

All of this led to Justin feeling secure in his relationship with Brian, which in turn led to Justin making a huge miscalculation.

 

* * *

 

It was right before Halloween when Justin broached the subject.

“Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Do I _look_ like someone who’d have plans for Thanksgiving?”

Justin smiled. “Well. Ok. So. My mom invited us over for Thanksgiving, and I was thinking that we should – could - go. I mean, she’s in Pittsburgh too, and you’d get to visit Gus and –”

“What?”

“Ummm…Pittsburgh. Thanksgiving. At my mom’s place.” The cold, deadly look on Brian’s face started to make Justin nervous.

“Why the fuck would I want to spend Thanksgiving with your mother?”

“It’s not the _whole_ day, Brian. Just dinner. Or lunch. Or whatever meal you want.”

“Why the fuck did your mother invite me?” Brian’s voice was cold and steady.

Justin was nervous and getting exasperated at the same time. “Brian, she just wants to meet you. Thanksgiving is as good a time as any…”

“And why exactly does she want to meet me?”

“I…she…I…she just wants to meet the person I’m seeing.”

“ _‘Seeing’?_ You’re ‘seeing’ me now?”

“Brian…what the hell else are we doing, if not seeing each other?”

“We’re not fucking seeing each other, that’s for sure. We hang out, now and then. We are _not_ some fucking couple.”

“Are you for real? We’re not seeing each other? We spend _half the week_ together. We talk all the fucking time. We practically live together.”

“Well then, maybe we shouldn’t.”

 

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3474>


	5. Chapter 5

Justin walked out that night, with everything he had at Brian's place stuffed into all the bags he could find. Brian didn't say anything. He didn't stop Justin. He just continued to watch television.

At first, Justin held out hope that Brian would come to his senses, get his shit together, call and apologise.

He didn't.

He knew that Brian had commitment issues and was allergic to the idea of a two-person future, but he thought that they were working through that. Meeting Michael and Ben, being included more and more in Brian's life…Justin had considered it progress.

And now here he was, all alone.

He messaged Brian, saying that they should talk. There was no response. He called Brian, and his calls went unanswered. He emailed Brian, and was met with silence.

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, Justin called his mom and told her that he'd be coming alone. Too embarrassed to tell her the truth, he just said that Brian couldn't get away from work.

Brian wasn't just throwing one of his usual tantrums, Justin realized. This was it. He had been cut off.

Justin was so mad at himself, if he were capable of assaulting himself, he would have. This was entirely his fault. He had misunderstood, miscalculated, mistimed and spooked Brian away. He was a fucking moron.

And the problem was, he didn't know how to fix it.

 

* * *

 

"We should have just stayed at home." Justin complained.

Eric, his roommate from Dartmouth, frowned at him. "Are you still moping about your breakup? We're seeing you after _ages_. You never come to Pittsburgh anymore. We have to be out, having fun, just like old times. Besides," Eric said grinning, "the best way to get over someone is to get under someone! Look at this place – so many hot young men to choose from. We didn't come out to a gay club for no reason."

Justin drained his glass too quickly, and looked around the club. "I'm not looking to get over – or under – anyone, thank you very much."

Daphne, his oldest friend from school sighed, and offered him the rest of her beer.

"What _are_ you looking for?"

"A time machine. So that I can go back in time, hit Past Justin over the head and ask him not to say or do stupid shit and ruin my fucking life."

"I see. Well, I can't help you with that. You could leave, you know. Your contract is up soon, right?"

"I asked for a temporary three-month extension. Just until I sort my shit out. But…yeah. I'm thinking that I might pack up and come to Pittsburgh. Start afresh."

"It's not your fault that you're a normal human being, you know. Blaming yourself is absurd. He's a fucking dick to treat you the way he did. Using you like that. Come on. Justin, so you fell in love. So he broke your heart. It's heaven, then it's hell. That's how love is _supposed_ to be. Trust me." Daphne started sipping Eric's drink, since they were now three people with two drinks, and nobody wanted to head to the bar for more. "You're going to be fine. Just be miserable for a while, and then you're going to snap out of it, just like that. That's how life goes. That's how love goes. You're going to find somebody else before you know it."

"If you keep falling in and out of love with different people all the time, it's clearly not love you're falling in." Justin responded morosely.

"Ooo-kay. Eric, some help here?"

" _Don't_ look now, but this guy at nine o'clock, he's been checking you out for a long while now. He's been staring at you all evening. And, I'm no gay man, but I think he'd be considered very hot."

Daphne looked around wildly. "Where? Where? Your nine or my nine or his nine?"

"Who cares? Because I don't." Justin said.

Then his heart stopped beating for a second. He thought he saw Ben, picking up a drink at the bar. He looked around, and saw Michael walking towards Ben.

"Eric, where is this guy?"

"I _knew_ you'd be tempted! He's at my nine."

Justin dropped his napkin, and bent down to pick it up, surreptitiously turning his head. "That's Brian."

"What?"

"That's Brian. He fucking came here for Thanksgiving after all. Goddamn him. Goddamn him to hell."

"Maybe we should go." Daphne was looking at Eric for support.

"Yeah…this wasn't my best idea. Let's just go home and watch movies or something."

Justin barely heard the two of them.

He was so angry that he was shaking. For all that, Brian had been planning to be in Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving _anyway._ And here he was, in a fucking club, with his friends, staring at none other than Justin himself. 'We are _not_ some fucking couple' my ass, he thought.

"No, let's not. I'm going to talk to Brian."

He was going to give Brian a piece of his mind. But, livid as he was, Justin didn't want to make a huge scene, so he looked once again to make sure that Ben, and now Michael as well, were at the bar. Brian was alone, leaning against a railing, while men milled past him.

"Jus…" Daphne swallowed whatever else she wanted to say, and she and Eric watched in apprehension as Justin sauntered over to Brian.

Brian saw him coming, and to his credit, made no attempt to escape.

"Justin. Enjoying the evening, I hope."

"Fuck you."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Justin would have thrown his drink in Brian's face, except that he didn't have a drink.

"Fuck. You. How fucking dare you? How fucking dare you act as if _I_ did something wrong? How dare you ignore me, as if you never knew me, as if we never shared anything? When you came back early from your trips. When you fell asleep holding me. When you said you missed me. How fucking dare you act as if that was all a hallucination inside my head? How dare you stare at me all evening, after telling me that we weren't some fucking couple? This is _your_ problem, not mine. You're the one who's too chicken shit to deal with his issues. _You're_ the one too immature to deal with adult relationships, so don't you fucking dare punish me and act as if I'm to blame for screwing things up. This is _all_ on you. _All_ your misery, and all _my_ misery – it's all on you. It's all your fucking fault."

Justin turned around to go find Daphne and Eric, and found them close behind him. He didn't want to know what Brian's reaction was, and he didn't want to hear any bullshit response that Brian might have.

"I'd really like to go home now."

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3474>


	6. Chapter 6

New York was beginning to really annoy Justin. The Christmas trees, the carollers, the lights…everything was beginning to annoy him.

Of course, if New York _hadn't_ been all decked out for Christmas, that would have annoyed him as well.

There was nothing the world could do that would have pleased him.

Since he screamed at Brian in Pittsburgh, he had neither seen nor heard from the man.

Justin wasn't used to being defeated, or feeling hopeless, or doing nothing. But he was out of ideas. He didn't want to move on, and he couldn't just keep ignoring facts. If nine Russians tell you you're drunk, you lie down. He couldn't keep pounding on the door that Brian wouldn't open. So he had stopped trying. He made no attempts to contact Brian since he came back to New York.

And yet, he wasn't able to let go. He haunted their usual hangouts, hoping to 'run into' Brian; he never did. He didn't look for any jobs in Pittsburgh. Something inside him said that it wasn't over just yet. That it just wasn't time to give up hope just yet. He didn't even bother booking his ticket back to Pittsburgh for Christmas, because Justin was hoping for some word from Brian. He refused to get drunk and sleep with random men to drown out his misery. Justin didn't believe in much, but he believed in what he had felt over the last eight months. He believed that Brian had felt it too. Whether Brian could overcome his own issues was another matter, but he had to believe.

Just before Christmas Eve, against the advice of his rational side, Justin had delivered to Brian's office an oil painting he had worked on for months. Street lights, trees, a vivid night sky in deep colours. A Christmas present. Just a simple card that said 'Merry Christmas. I hope you're well'.

In the end, he had waited so long that he had to overpay for a shitty ticket back to Pittsburgh at the eleventh hour. A shitty end to a beautiful year, he figured.

Fortunately, it was Christmas, which meant that everyone was busier than at all other holidays. Daphne was with her family, Eric was with his, and he made vague plans to meet them 'later'. Molly, his younger sister, was with his mother this Christmas, and she probably had instructions about Justin's mood, because she was less chatty and more understanding.

Christmas Eve was a quiet affair, and Justin felt bad for being a downer, but his energy levels were quite low and he just wasn't able to make more of an effort. At least he had brought them both very nice gifts. He went to bed early, determined to do better the next day. His family shouldn't have to pay for the state of his love life.

On Christmas day, Justin woke up early, whipping up breakfast for Molly and his mother. They had all agreed on having a big dinner and forego lunch, mainly so that Molly could turn up at their father's house and do what courtesy required. Justin drove her there, exchanged pleasantries with his dad and they both left early. He was not able to deal with his father's issues, especially this year, and, he legitimately had to leave early to cook.

Justin himself didn't feel like eating much, and he felt a pit in his stomach when he thought about all the times he had cooked for Brian, but he tried to push that feeling aside. It was Christmas, and he had to put on a brave front.

"What do you want to watch after dinner?"

"Molly, honey, there's a whole bunch of movies I bought. Why don't you and your brother go through those and pick one?"

"I'm still cooking dinner. Isn't it a bit early to be picking a movie?"

"Hardly. I like to be prepared. We can watch some really cheesy movies that they'll be showing on Hallmark."

"I want to watch _'Karate Kid'_. Mom, could you pass the can opener please?"

Molly groaned. "Isn't that film ancient? And it isn't even a Christmas movie."

"I'm cooking, so I get to pick the movies." Justin declared. "If you want a Christmas movie, we're watching _'Die Hard'_. That's the ultimate Christmas movie."

Their mother groaned. "Justin, don't people die in that?"

"Lots."

"And _that's_ what you want to watch?"

"I'm with Justin." Molly stated. " _'Die Hard'_ will be an epic movie to watch."

Watching movies together meant that he could participate, and at the same time, zone out without feeling bad. And he _really_ wanted to watch _'Karate Kid'_ again.

"There's someone at the door."

"Don't be silly. I didn't hear anything." His sister could be a little batty sometimes.

"That's because you're standing next to the damn blender."

"Molly, in case you didn't notice, it's Christmas day. Generally, _not_ a day people come knocking on your door."

Then all three of them heard the doorbell ring.

" _Told_ you." Molly stated smugly, as she skipped to the door.

Justin shook his head and started beating some eggs.

"Jus, there's someone here to see you."

"Me?" Justin stared blankly at Molly, who had reappeared at the doorway. His mother stood up, also looking at Molly. "Is it Daphne? I'm cooking, I can't leave this. Just ask her to come on in here."

"It's not Daphne."

"Eric, then. Whatever. Tell him to come in."

"It's not Eric…Mooom…you deal with this. I don't know what to do."

Molly followed their mother, who looked at Justin, before she went to the front door.

"Um…Justin, sweetheart…"

Justin looked up to see Brian standing next to his mother, with a little boy clutching his hand. Justin recognized him from photos he had seen at Brian's…this was Gus.

It took him almost half a minute to snap out of his daze, during which time his impeccable mother had dealt with all the introductions.

"Are you making pie?" Gus asked him.

"I'm making Tiramisu…it's…a kind of cake." Justin added, seeing the look of confusion on the boy's face.

"Mommy made pie and Granma Debbie said there was too much pie because she made pie too and then Daddy didn't eat any of them. Can I…may I…Daddy, can I lick the bowl when he's finished?"

Brian looked at Justin, completely at a loss, and Justin figured immediately that Brian had never had to navigate a working kitchen alone with his son.

"Sure you can, just a little bit, if your dad is ok with it."

Brian nodded at Gus, evidently not having an opinion on children eating batter.

Fortunately for everyone, his mother took charge of matters. "Gus, sweetie, we were having some problems picking a nice Christmas movie to watch today. Do you think you can help Molly and I pick a nice one? Come, I'll show you what we have."

With that, Justin was alone with Brian in the kitchen.

"Tiramisu isn't your typical Christmas dessert, is it?"

"Are you… _what_? Seriously, are you discussing tiramisu with me? What are you _doing_ here?"

"I got your gift. Thank you."

Justin took a deep breathe, and tried to clamp down his million thoughts and emotions. "How did you find me?"

"Your mom has a home office and she's a real estate agent. It's not that difficult."

"Right…you brought Gus…"

Brian shrugged. "The chances of gaining entry into a household are higher when you have an innocent young child with you."

Justin stared at him.

"And I thought you should meet him."

Justin continued to stare at him.

"Considering that I'd meet your mother…"

Justin still stared at him.

"Are you planning on saying anything at all?"

"Brian, last time we actually had a conversation…do you remember what you said? Should I refresh your memory?"

Brian walked closer, standing behind Justin, who was now lightly wedged between the counter and Brian. Justin refused to turn around. He was not going to look at Brian.

"I might have been out of line."

" _Might?"_

"Ok, I was out of line."

"You were more than out of line. You were wrong. And cruel. And mean. And -"

"Ok, ok. I was wrong. And mean."

"And cruel."

Brian sighed. "And harsh. I'm sorry."

"Am I now supposed to forgive you? Just like that?"

Brian leaned into Justin, resting his forehead on the back of Justin's head. "I'd very much like it if you did."

"Why? So you can tell me three months later that we're just 'hanging out' or some bullshit like that?"

"Look, Justin, this is hard. I'm going to fuck up again. I will stumble. And when I do, it'll be easier to stand again if you're there to help me back up."

Justin turned around slowly, to face Brian, so that their foreheads were now touching. He looked at Brian, and he saw the veil had dropped briefly…there was vulnerability, and a hint of fear in Brian's eyes, even if it was mere seconds.

"You should have just…answered my calls. Called me back. _Something._ "

"I'm here now. You don't understand…sometimes, it feels safer to not have good things because you won't miss them when they're gone."

"I'm not going anywhere." Justin kissed him lightly. "Doubts and mistrust are the mere panic of timid imagination, which the steadfast heart will conquer, and the large mind transcend."

"' _Karate Kid'_ again?"

"Helen Keller."

They both laughed softly.

Brian was right; Justin knew he'd fuck up again. They both would. But this was something worth fighting for.

"I wish you could see yourself the same way I see you – as someone worth fighting for."

"You're a beautiful person, Justin." Brian placed his hand on Justin's cheek and kissed him. "And…I'm going to fuck up again, starting now. I didn't get you anything for Christmas."

Justin laughed. "It's ok. We'll figure something out. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

 

**THE END**

* * *

 

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

This story archived at <http://www.midnightwhispers.ca/viewstory.php?sid=3474>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Much thanks to mander3_swish for organizing the QAF Gift Exchange every year, to erika_benika, for the super fun prompt that resulted in this story, and, as always, to my awesome beta Xrifree.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> Based on the show 'Queer as Folk' by Showtime. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is made from this work.


End file.
